Centuries

Out of whim, borrowed a book from the library today. Not even remotely interested in my loan. Couldn’t resist stepping inside the brand spanking new lib. The one near the shop of this extortionate Korean fishmonger who believes a pound of discard fish heads is as costly as a slab of toro.

Eking out an existence in the world’s financial capital, I am grateful for everything public: public libraries, public radio, public television, and even the spotty public transportation system. I must be a socialist at heart. That if heart is an accepted entry in the lexicon of any self-respecting, card-carrying socialist.

James Joyce famously boasted that in writing his unreadable masterpiece, Ulysses, he had “put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing” over what he meant.

Until now, I yet have to read myself. My life’s a dazzlingly hot mess of inconsistencies. To unpack a single day would keep me busy for centuries. That if I have the time.